Anywhere but there

There are some times in every adult's life when they are forced to take shit from someone. That time is now for Mr Brad. He let me know that we will more than likely be moving to the middle of fucking no-where Colorado. I mean the middle of no where. It is four hours from an airport. The town the project is in isn't even a town, it has no name. The closest "town" is a half hour away. It has no where to live. There are a total of six places for rent in Rifle, CO. All six are two bedroom duplexes that cost $1700 a month. There is no high speed internet available. There is a Walmart, but nothing else. You buy groceries according to what they have, not what you'd like. Gas is outrageous there. So is just about anything else, because who the hell is there to buy it?
I know these things happen. I know money can't buy happiness. I also know there should be a sizable salary adjustment as a meager attempt to make going to CO seem worthwhile. I am spoiled. I have friends in Orem, UT. I have routines and niceties to which I have become accustomed. There is no gym in Rifle, CO. Nor is there a mom's group, an indoor swim facility, or a mall with in a hundred miles. What they do have is subzero temperatures for most of the winter. They also have extreme snow fall and hazardous road conditions. Good news-I'll HAVE to have a nice 4WD just to get out of the drive way. What driveway will that be? Well, what most people moving there are having to do is live in a camper trailer.
Recreational vehicles are called such because they are meant to be used for fun, not as full time residences. It seems that this will be our only option. My future looks like I'll be living(if you can call it that) in a travel trailer. Nice, no bedrooms for the kids. No nursery, no place or room for their toys. No room for anything but the bare essentials. I am not the bare essentials type of girl. I like having more than two pairs of shoes, I like having a king sized bed, I like having an office, I like having room for my kids to play. I will not be the one to tell Turner that we have to get rid of all but a few of his toys because we're moving to a shit hole on wheels.
Don't try the argument that trailers are nice and bigger than I think. We just went to an RV expo. They are very nice--to camp in. Even with pop outs it will be smaller than the four hundred square foot apartment we lived in for two years in Phoenix. Brad and I managed, but were cramped. We didn't have kids, baby swings, bouncy seats, coloring books, playdoh, stuffed animals, story books, swords, army men, or any of the other beloved items that children come with.
I love Brad. It's not his fault the company wants to send him there. It's not his fault, yet he's going to have to take shit from me about it. I want to bitch, moan and groan, and freak out a little. I do things to live with Brad that I would do for no other. Only women will understand the commitment one must have to her husband for her to change OB/GYN's every year. We've been married five years, in that time I've had four different OB's.
The thought of being so isolated from the outside world terrifies me. What will I do with Turner all day? Now we are busy and have an activity every single day. It's the only way to keep him from destroying the twenty five hundred square feet we live in now. Am I to adjust to five hundred square feet with two children and the reality that during the coldest part of winter I likely won't be able to leave the house or go outside for weeks at a time?
Brad's responsibility is to be there for me to let it all out to, a job he doesn't cherish. I don't care. It's not his fault we're moving there, but it is because of him that we'll go. I am sure it was somewhere in our vows that he has to lie to me for the sake of comfort. Tell me it'll be alright, even if you don't know it will be. In the footnote to that same vow I am sure there is a pregnancy clause: should catastrophic changes, which are not desirable, become eminent while the female partner is with child, she has the right to complain and freak out as often as excess estrogen forces her to. The male partner's responsibilities include holding the crazy women you knocked up, taking some shit(even if you don't deserve it), and lying in a manner as to calm the women with the occupied womb.
I don't like arguing with my husband, contrary to what he believes. When I heard this news I listed a litany of things that I hated about our situation. All the while I am telling him this he thinks I am bitching at him. Wrong, I can complain and express a vehement hatred of circumstances that involve you with out being mad at or bitching about you. His ears only hear the unhappy tone in my voice and he shuts down. There will be no comforting coming from him any time soon, he thinks I am fussing about him. I need him to be my strong oak now more than I usually do. I am a crazy lady when I am pregnant, I admit this without shame. I over react to bad news, I can't help it. I also need his arms around me, then no matter what huge changes we'll go through together, I will feel like it's OK.
I am left to simmer and stew about this move, he said we'll know something more on Friday. Purgatory must be nearer to hell than heaven, waiting has to be the devil's most loved form of torture. I am trying my best to tell myself God will put us where we need to be, He'll never give you more than you can handle. I am praying about it through gritted teeth. Maybe there is a mountain women in me to rival Grizzly Adams. Maybe I will become more at peace with myself if that's the only person for a hundred miles with whom I have to spend my time. I know God has a plan and I am too small and near sighted to see it at the moment. I would love a peek at the road map He has for me though.